


Natural Chemistry

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, POV Peter Hale, POV Stiles, Sex Pollen, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 23:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12568828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Some of the pack members are exposed to a substance most accurately described as sex pollen.  There’s a reason sex pollen is a tried-and-true trope but Peter and Stiles are determined to put their own spin on the outcome.





	Natural Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first posting associated with Round 8 of the Hurt/Comfort Bingo Multi Fandom Challenge and it's a doozy--sex pollen. I have completed 18 of the 25 prompt and I'm on pace to hit blackout by the end of December. I'm writing exclusively in the Teen Wolf fandom again and this round I'm featuring many pairings including the popular Derek/Stiles as well as Peter/Stiles, Chris/Stiles and Allison/Stiles to name a few. Hopefully something for everyone!

Peter hung back as the True Alpha and two of his betas forged ahead, trampling whatever flora and fauna dared get in their way.

An undisclosed number of omegas were supposedly in the outer most part of the preserve and McCall wanted to give them a choice.

“We’re moving outside of the territory.” A deep, rasping voice muttered to his left.

Stiles Stilinski. 

Somehow the human had become the voice of reason for the McCall Pack. Unfortunately that pack didn’t always listen to reason. McCall listened to whatever input those in his pack could give him but he ‘relied upon his instincts and his heart to make decisions’. Yes, that was a direct quote from a few months ago and Peter’s eyes had rolled back so hard in his head he felt like he was channeling Liz ‘I want to roll my eyes right now but the doctor said if I keep doing it, my ocular muscles might spasm and eject my eyeballs’ Lemon.

From where Peter was sitting it seemed as though either the True Alpha’s aforementioned instincts or his heart were damaged. Time and time again McCall let those who would harm his pack live and then he seemed surprised when those very same entities attempted to harm the pack again.

Mentally shrugging, Peter tried to stay free of the fray. He made no secret of the fact he wanted the Hale Territory back but it seemed he was doomed to live under the yoke of the True Alpha’s wishes. Either he had to remain in good standing with McCall or he’d be remanded back to Eichen House.

If the price he had to pay to stay out of that place was hanging around this upstart pack, he would gladly pay it. It also afforded him the opportunity to get to know his daughter.

At least some of McCall’s Pack was amusing. Stiles, who continued muttering to himself, was definitely the most amusing to Peter.

Who knew the whole Ghost Rider debacle would forge if not a friendship, at least some sort of détente between the two men?

Even though Stiles had been talking to himself, Peter chimed in. “Are you going to call the True Alpha’s attention to the fact he’s straying outside of his territory?”

Stiles’s head snapped to the right so hard, Peter thought the vertebra in his neck crackled with the force. The human narrowed his eyes as though he was going to do verbal battle with Peter but then he did a curious thing: He just shrugged his shoulders.

“What does that mean exactly?” Peter’s curiosity was insatiable, it always had been, and sometimes Stiles ignored him and other times he gave Peter what he craved, which was knowledge.

“Scotty won’t care that we’re off the territory. He wants to try to save the omegas before hunters take care of them.” Stiles had a half smile on his face. Peter couldn’t say for sure but he thought Stiles was proud of Scott’s altruistic ways even if that wasn’t necessarily how Stiles would approach the problem.

Stiles was the pragmatist of the pack. Peter could respect that along with the human’s pension for cleverness. If Peter had any say in the matter, Malia would still be dating Stiles and not McCall.

Peter didn’t bother to say anything though because although Malia associated with him, she wasn’t looking for his input or guidance. He was proud of his daughter even if he hadn’t played any part in how she turned out.

The unnatural stillness of the wooded area caught Peter’s attention. No sound. No scent.

Throwing his arm out, Peter indicated they should both stop moving.

A crackle of noise on the other side of Stiles was the only warning Peter had. He grabbed a hold of Stiles’s wrist and yanked him away from the threat and toward Peter’s body. He no longer had the power associated with being an alpha but he still had plenty as a mature beta. Hopefully enough to keep Stiles safe.

A fine mist settled across Peter’s face and his vision faded to black.

-0-

Stiles heeded Peter’s warning.

Something was definitely amiss in the preserve. He strained his hearing, listening for Scott and Liam. Even some sort of sign Theo was still up ahead would be welcome at this point.

Strong fingers circled Stiles’s right wrist and before he could brace himself he flew toward Peter.

He wanted to give the guy a piece of his mind, had even parted his lips to make his unhappiness known, when something wet sprayed across his face.

Stiles stumbled to his knees, trying to shake the disorientation away like a dog shaking off water. The only thing shaking his head did was make his head spin.

No one was leaping out of the trees and coming for them so Stiles turned on his knees until he could locate the nearest member of his party.

Peter was sprawled on his back but when Stiles squinted through blurry eyes, the man’s chest was moving up and down.

That was something at least. He and Malia might not be together anymore but they were still friends and Stiles did not want to tell her something had happened to her, as she so eloquently put it, sperm donor.

Crawling the couple of feet needed to reach Peter’s side, Stiles inventoried him for damage. Nothing was visibly wrong but whatever had knocked Stiles to his knees had obviously done a number on Peter.

Stiles hoped Scott and Liam had fared better.

Theo, well, Stiles was just waiting for him to turn on them again so that wouldn’t be any great loss.

It was really saying something when Peter Hale was the lesser of two evils and in Stiles’s eyes, he’d take Peter over Theo any day.

Droplets clung to Peter’s eyelashes and Stiles took his thumb and tried to dry the moisture. 

At the first touch Peter’s eyes sprang open and his hand snapped upward, capturing Stiles’s already sore right wrist.

Stiles stared down into Peter’s preternaturally blue eyes. 

Wait, those weren’t the beta blues Stiles was staring at, those were Peter’s human eye color. Absolutely stunning. Stiles certainly felt stunned.

Peter Hale was an attractive man with his built physique, cleft chin and arresting eyes. It wasn’t until the man opened his mouth that the attractiveness faded away.

Stiles’s attention moved to the grip Peter had fastened around his limb. Peter’s focus shifted that way, too.

The other man released his hold and Stiles let out the breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding, and began to shift his weight backward when he found himself manhandled.

Peter’s hands spanned against Stiles’s waist and he gave an indignant yelp as he was lifted. Stiles closed his eyes, expecting to be thrown, maybe brained against a tree, when instead he was settled atop Peter’s recumbent body. More specifically, Stiles’s legs were parted and his ass rested against Peter’s very interested groin.

“Peter?” Stiles had been trying to keep quiet but this, whatever this was, was not okay.

“Don’t. Move.” Peter hissed.

Stiles stopped his fidgeting. Even with the double denim barrier, he could feel the werewolf’s stiffy nudging his taint.

Being attracted to a man didn’t faze Stiles; being attracted to his one-time girlfriend’s biological father was a different story.

“What’s going on?” Stiles demanded. His voice was huskier than usual and when he licked his lips nervously, Peter’s focus zeroed in on his mouth. 

Not that there was any doubt, the attraction went both ways.

Ugh.

“Some sort of biological warfare. I’m a bit…incapacitated.” Peter’s voice was huskier, too. 

Stiles didn’t feel like he was incapacitated. Maybe a little stupid with lust but that wasn’t anything new. “Maybe I should check on the others.”

“Maybe you should.” Peter agreed.

Peter rarely agreed. With anyone.

Stiles took the win and pushed upward, staggering to an upright position. He wasn’t going to delude himself that he was standing up straight but it was a start.

He willed his boner to go down and the thought of Scott and Liam being out there, hurt, did the trick. His full hard-on at least subsided to a semi. That was pretty much his status quo so he could work with it.

“I’ll be right back.” Stiles made the promise although Peter no longer seemed to be paying attention to him; the other man had closed his eyes with his hands fisted at his side.

Stiles turned and pointed himself in the direction he’d last seen Scott’s vanguard.

Something cracked into his temple and Stiles found himself down on his knees again.

“How come this one wasn’t affected like the other one?” A stranger’s voice boomed into the quiet.

“Es un ser humano no un hombre lobo.” 

Despite Stiles’s aching head he could pick out the language—Spanish—and some of the words. Human. Wolf.

Hunters.

Stiles spilled onto the ground face first as something connected with his back.

The implications of the situation were spinning in his head, trying to gain traction, as his lights dimmed and then turned off.

-0-

Wolfsbane infused manacles kept his arms pinned behind his back and with his legs refusing to cooperate, Peter found himself being dragged through the preserve.

It was highly undignified but Peter kept his mouth shut. He was just beginning to emerge from the stupor he’d been plunged into and a little reconnaissance was needed before he plotted his next course.

“Severo, we’ve rounded them all up. Four werewolves and this one.” Something in the pronunciation of the vowels made Peter think this hunter was from the Midwest. 

Severo. Where did Peter know that name? Ah, the great hunting family lead by Araya Calaveras. 

Wonderful.

“I’ll take the human, you take over here.” The accent was present but he was still easily understood.

Peter dipped his chin up marginally and took a quick glance at the two men speaking.

One was olive skinned, neatly trimmed dark hair and goatee, and about six-feet tall with a fit body. Something hung around his neck. A mask?

The other one was maybe as tall as six-feet-four with a ridiculously muscular physique. He was very Nordic looking with light eyes and hair. Perhaps he was Thor’s double. He held what looked to be a life-sized doll in his arms.

Peter let his head sag forward but listened intently. He was unceremoniously dropped onto his front as some sort of exchange was made.

Without warning Peter was grabbed by the crook of his arm and the dragging recommenced.

“I wanted the human but instead I’m stuck with you. Great.” Peter wanted to inform Thor he wasn’t any more pleased with the situation than he was but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He might be able to deal with the wolfsbane but whatever was swimming around in his system was making it difficult to think.

He also had an additional worry. The life-sized doll that had been draped over Thor’s arms had to be Stiles. 

Stiles had seemed less affected by whatever the hell had turned Peter’s hormones on high. He’d been moving, and speaking, when Peter had last seen him.

What had these hunters done to Stiles? Peter knew better than to think being human would bring any weight to bear on this crew and Stiles wasn’t built for the damage hunters liked to inflict on what they saw as their enemy.

Peter would never tell Stiles he was fragile but physiologically the human was more vulnerable to more dangers than the shifters.

The squeak of doors opening heralded Peter’s trip, headfirst, into the back of what appeared to be a van.

“What are you doing?” Severo seemed to be perturbed with his cohort.

“I thought you wanted me to stay in the back and keep an eye on these two?” Thor’s tone was respectful but Peter didn’t buy it. 

Neither did Severo. “Did you get infected by the agent?”

Thor huffed. “I had my mask.”

Peter didn’t remember seeing a mask, not like he had with Severo.

“Where is it?” Damn it, Severo was sharp. That would make escape a bit tricky.

“Here.” Thor slapped the item against his thigh; the gesture was abrupt and vibrated with anger. Thor definitely wasn’t happy about being called out but if Peter had to guess he’d say Thor had pulled his mask out of a pocket. That certainly wasn’t proof he’d used his mask earlier. 

Severo grunted. “You’re up front with me.”

Footfalls moved away from the area but Peter remained still.

“I’ll see you later.” Peter heard a light slapping sound and couldn’t imagine what Thor was doing. Patting Stiles’s cheek? Smacking his ass?

The doors clanged shut.

Peter had a sick feeling in his gut.

Severo had worried Thor had been infected by the agent. An agent that made Peter so horny he was incapacitated. It sounded like humans could be infected as well but their symptoms must be different.

It was actually quite ingenious. Except for the part where Peter was some sort of guinea pig. 

The vehicle shot forward.

“Stiles, can you hear me?” Despite the darkness, Peter could make out a slumped figure on his side. The pale skin was a good indicator but Stiles’s scent clinched his identity for Peter.

With no response forthcoming, Peter wiggled and rolled until he was up close to Stiles.

The damp chill of lying on the floor of the metal floor seeped into his joints. The least he could do was lend some of his shifter warmth to the unconscious human while he remained alert for an opportunity to escape.

-0-

Stiles swam back toward consciousness just as someone shined a bright light first in one eye and then the other.

If he’d been given a choice he would’ve declined waking up until after his pupils were checked.

He’d flinched with pain so playing possum was no longer an option. Blinking his eyes open, Stiles waited for his vision to sharpen so the blurred images came into focus. Maybe he was in the hospital.

Dr. Conrad Fenris stared down at him.

Nope, definitely not the hospital. 

Something sharp pinched the inside of his elbow and Stiles tried to move his arm away from the pain but he was stuck fast. Restraints buckled around his wrists and—Stiles tried to kick his legs—ankles, kept him in place. 

“Relax. We’re just taking a blood sample.” Stiles found the other man’s tone to be less than reassuring. It was more smarmy than heartening.

“You relax when you’re being held against your will and someone is forcibly taking bodily fluids from you. What happened to consent?” Stiles’s mouth was parched and the words lacked their usual bite as he tried to summon saliva.

“It’s not my fault you stumbled into their little war games but you’ve been exposed to the agent so I need to monitor your condition.” The doctor had the balls to pat his cheek.

Ugh.

“Where are the others I was with?” Stiles didn’t want to ask the question but he needed to at least know Scott and Liam were safe.

Peter, too, for that matter.

Theo could burn in hell.

“The shifters are fine. They ‘re safe, just in a different holding area. We need to separate you from them to prevent something unpleasant from happening to you. They’re a bit, how shall I put this, frisky at the moment.” Dr. Fenris flashed a toothy smile and although Stiles was already freaking out, that look sent him into a complete panic.

Thrashing weakly at his restraints, Stiles felt moisture track down his cheeks. If he had cared for this man’s opinion he would’ve been humiliated. “Let me go.”

Someone else emerged from behind the doctor. He was tall and buff with light blond hair and cold, blue eyes. The cheekbones were pronounced and the man might’ve been attractive except something about him screamed _psycho._

Dr. Fenris looked over his shoulder. “It’s up to you. I’d like to monitor how the others react to having him in their midst but they might get violent.”

If Stiles had thought Fenris’s smile was scary then this one’s grin, complete with dimples, was off the charts, holy fuck, run for your life levels of fright inducing. 

Adrenaline burst through Stiles’s system and he could neither fight nor take flight. His heartbeat was so loud in his own ears he could barely hear the rest of the conversation.

“I’ll take good care of him.”

Stiles’s head was swiveling back and forth and he realized he was chanting, “No, no, no, no.”

It didn’t matter what he wanted. The blond wound rope around his legs and when he was finished, he produced another length of rope and wound it around Stiles’s chest so his arms were trapped at his sides. Stiles didn’t even remember the restraints being unbuckled or being raised to a sitting position for all this to be accomplished but that might have been because he was freaking the hell out. 

Through blurred vision, Stiles saw the white lab coat turn his back and walk away. The doctor was abandoning Stiles to this freak’s un-tender mercies.

“Upsy-daisy.” Stiles found himself upended over the giant’s broad shoulder. The blood rushed to his head and the dizziness became pervasive. A large palm settled over his ass, keeping him in place.

Stiles became distracted as the palm pushed down, flexing, as though testing Stiles for done-ness.

He wanted to protest. He really, really did. 

Instead the dizziness swept him up and he floated away on its tide.

-0-

The combined scents were overwhelming but Peter tried not to judge.

Tried not to judge but he was unsuccessful. Usually Peter was pleased to have the enhanced sense of smell—it helped him to detect danger and it also provided pleasure to a somewhat mundane existence as of late—but this, stewing in the sex pheromones of three young men was almost more than Peter could bear.

He kept his own counsel though, content to lean against the back wall as far from the Three Stooges as he could get.

One minute Peter was minding his own business, that business listening as Scott, Liam and Theo argued, and the next he was flung to the floor as electricity arced through the cell.

“Fresh meat, boys. This one looks tasty so save some for me.”

Thor strolled into the cell and dumped something on the cement floor before striding away.

Scott was the first to recover. It galled Peter to admit that but all alphas exhibited better recuperative powers than betas so he tried to let it go.

It was difficult to let it go when Peter was barely climbing to his feet, shaking off the effects of the electrical shock, when Scott was already next to Stiles trying to revive him. 

Peter had done his best to keep the unconscious Stiles warm in the drafty van and he’d been most upset when they’d hauled the human away.

Bending over Scott’s shoulder, Peter got his first good look at Stiles.

Heavy bruising on the side of his face only served to highlight the pallor of his skin. White roped trussed Stiles’s arms down to his sides but it also emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the insanely small waist, and the fact that the human actually had muscles that heaved against the pressure of the fibers binding him. Stiles’s legs were similarly bound with rope. 

Peter couldn’t help but notice how the rope on his upper body stopped at the top of his groin and the rope around the lower body commenced just below it, calling attention to the denim bulge caught between the layers. He idly wondered if the rope framed Stiles’s muscular ass.

An ass Peter wouldn’t mind exploring.

Shaking his head, Peter would’ve liked to blame his reactions on the chemicals swirling through his body but he had to admit, at least in part, that Stiles was a very attractive male. 

He was also currently unconscious but Peter knew if he had been awake he’d be calling Peter out on his pervy behavior. 

Scott reached a hand out and it hovered over the denim bulge. 

Peter was pretty certain Scott was completely heteronormative so he was going to attribute the effects of _the agent_ on the alpha’s actions.

Or almost actions as Scott’s hand detoured and his claws sliced through the rope, freeing Stiles’s upper body from its confinement.

Stiles groaned, freed of the restrictive binding around his chest, and others in the cell echoed the groan.

Peter looked up to find Scott’s betas both staring down at the human with rapt attention. 

The younger one, Liam, licked his lips and seemed surprised as his fangs emerged. He exclaimed a wordless noise of surprise and buried his face behind his hands, claws emerging from his fingertips.

The other one, Theo, also seemed to struggle with control. His eyes pulsed the bright blue associated with the beta shift and although his claws remained unsheathed and his fangs didn’t drop, his sole attention was on the human lying at his feet. Theo’s breaths were slow and deep and Peter found the respirations disturbing when matched with the strong scent of arousal he was giving off.

“McCall, I think they need your attention.” Peter kept his tone light and conversational; there was no need to add fuel to the already combustible atmosphere.

McCall sliced through the ropes binding Stiles’s legs together and once the restraints gave way, those long limbs spread open in relaxation.

Both betas gasped and Peter realized _the agent_ was causing them to see Stiles as prey. 

Sexual prey.

The True Alpha finally tore his gaze away from his best friend and looked up. “Fuck. As in we’re _fucked._ ”

It wasn’t like Peter had never heard McCall use a curse word before but he infused this one with particular feeling. The gravity of the situation seemed to be sinking in.

“Well someone is going to be fucked if you don’t take control here. If you take care of your betas, I’ll watch over Stiles.” Peter kept his head down, as if staring at Stiles, but the two shifters standing across from him had his complete attention.

“How do I know I can trust you?” McCall also had the presence of mind to keep his head down, not so much submissive but definitely not challenging.

At least not yet.

“You don’t. But whereas I might feel the pull of the delightful chemical cocktail swimming around inside of us, I have the maturity to ignore it. I have no plans to force myself upon Stiles.” For some reason not taking advantage of the vulnerable human was of utmost importance to Peter.

It wasn’t friendship.

It wasn’t because of Malia.

Peter realized if he was going to have his way with Stiles he wanted full consensual sex with the other man. Peter felt the drugs compromised his own agency and Stiles was in an even more tenuous predicament when it came to giving informed consent as he seemed to be affected to some degree by the agent and he was also in no position to fight off anyone’s advances, never mind a shifter’s. 

“Fine. If you hurt Stiles, I will make you pay.” McCall’s vow lacked substance—up until now the so-called True Alpha had refused to deliver the coup d’état even in the direst of situations—but Peter didn’t require the added incentive of his threat.

Peter would, as usual, do this for himself. He wasn’t about to lose the company of the only compelling member of this pack he wasn’t related to.

“Understood.” Peter had barely uttered the last syllable before Scott rose to his feet and bounded across Stiles’s body, bowling both of his betas to the ground.

Peter scooped Stiles into his arms and pulled him away from the scrum.

For the sake of decent company, Peter wished Stiles was awake but it was just as well he was out for this little skirmish. Something told Peter the human would be deeply uncomfortable if he knew members of his own pack were fighting over him.

And their idea of company at the moment wasn’t just scintillating conversation.

-0-

Stiles eyes popped open, his breath hitching in his chest.

The Jolly Blond Giant had been kneading his butt…that was his last coherent memory.

“Easy, easy. You’re…safe.” 

It wasn’t like Peter to pick and choose his words to that degree and worry—more worry—zinged through Stiles’s system.

“What happened?” Stiles levered himself up, his weight on his left forearm, as he looked around.

“Thor brought you back here and you’ve been insentient since.” Stiles snorted at Peter’s nickname for the blond behemoth. Very fitting. Stiles should’ve thought of that.

Of course he’d been a little too busy freaking out to be thinking clearly.

Stiles made himself sit upright, ignoring the swooping sensation fluttering through his body. He didn’t feel well.

Peter slid an arm around his shoulders and Stiles couldn’t find the energy to object. He did have the energy for a question though. “Where are the others?”

The older man’s eyes crinkled with humor as he pointed to the far side of the room. Stiles leaned around Peter’s body, squinting, and in the dull light he saw three bodies intertwined.

That old kick of adrenaline shot through Stiles but instead of giving him a jolt of energy, he felt more woozy. Woozier? Determining the correct grammar usage was beyond his control at the moment, that’s how shitty he felt.

“They’re okay.” Peter assured him but Stiles tried to summon his dubious look. He couldn’t tell if it worked since Peter’s attention focused on the hand Stiles had pressed to his heart. He was trying to keep the wildly beating muscle from exploded from his chest a la Alien.

Peter who was rarely kind, shored up Stiles’s faltering balance by drawing Stiles in closer to his side. “I promise you, they’re just sleeping. They’ve had one hell of a day.”

Stiles’s body relaxed into the warmth at his side. “Haven’t we all.”

“Quite. Do you feel up to exchanging information?” The situation must be dire if Peter was asking instead of demanding.

What was the next step after woozy? Stiles was pretty certain he’d hit that mark. He didn’t feel up to exchanging information but if they wanted out of here, wherever here was, he had to suck it up. 

“Conrad Fenris from Eichen House said we were exposed to some ‘agent,’” Stiles tried to sketch air quotes with his hand but lifting it up required more energy than he had so it plopped back down to the ground next to him while he continued, “during some sort of war games and he took a blood sample, said he had to monitor me. I wanted to know where you guys were so Thor,” Stiles paused again while he partially giggled at the fitting nickname and tried to draw breath at the same time, “said he’d take me even though Fenris said you all were frisky, his words not mine.”

Stiles’s eyelids closed and he snuggled a little into Peter’s warmth. He wanted to lie down again but moving was beyond him at the moment.

“Unfortunately that matches the information we’ve been able to gather. Whatever they hit us with triggered some sort of primal urge for sex. The urge was so strong it incapacitated us, which apparently dovetails nicely into the Calaveras creating some weapon to use against shifters.” Stiles admired Peter’s ability to deliver phrases like ‘primal urge for sex’ and ‘urge so strong it incapacitated us’ as though he was reading the ingredients off of a cereal box. Maybe clinical was the right route to take with this.

Stiles was too busy hyperventilating with the news the Calaveras were behind this. This would be the same Calaveras who had tortured Scott and threatened the alpha that he would pay if he ever turned a beta. 

Meet Liam, Scott’s beta.

The rhythm in his chest was loud and syncopated and he found himself gasping for air.

Peter was speaking but it sounded like he was under water. Or maybe Stiles was under water. Stiles couldn’t parse what Peter was saying but he took some comfort from knowing he wasn’t alone.

Scott and Liam were okay.

Peter had put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Stiles trusted Peter to come up with a plan.

Stiles gave in to the urge to rest.

-0-

Peter didn’t like what he was hearing. Nor seeing.

Stiles had passed out again, the color of his skin a concerning shade of gray, and his heart was tapping out a frantic beat reminiscent of a hummingbird.

Summoning his knowledge of erectile dysfunction medications from the media, because surely the chemicals they’d been sprayed them with had to contain such a component if his iron hard third leg was anything to go by, Peter realized Stiles was most likely suffering from low blood pressure.

Peter supposed the blood pooling in his cock had to come from throughout his body and he at least had werewolf healing to draw from whereas Stiles’s poor body was being battered from within.

Easing Stiles down, Peter arranged his limbs as comfortably as he could. One of Stiles’s hands was still lingering across his chest, fingers splayed, and Peter left it there after making sure the rest of that arm was unkinked. 

The next step was to raise Stiles’s legs so that they were higher than Stiles’s heart. Peter sat near Stiles’s hip and extended one of his own legs out, lifting and settling Stile’s legs so they draped over Peter’s limb. 

Peter shook his head when he saw the checkerboard Vans on the younger man’s rather large feet. He’d like to ask Stiles if he’d seen ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’ as most people attributed the rise in popularity of that brand of slip-on shoes to Sean Penn’s character Spicoli wearing them in the movie.

Approaching footfalls and the scent of Eau De Alpha permeating the air announced the arrival of McCall. 

“How is he?” McCall’s tone was suitably subdued. Or maybe he was exhausted. He’d fought with and then sexually dominated both his betas. If Peter had cared for the young man he would’ve tendered an invitation to discuss what had happened and perhaps helped to assuage his guilt. 

He didn’t care though except for how it affected the pack.

“I think the chemical is affecting Stiles in a more visceral way.” Peter’s announcement was met by silence and he wondered if he’d used words too big for McCall’s brain. “Visceral means—“

“I know what it means. I was trying to remember if there was anything else we could do to treat what I’m assuming is severe low blood pressure.” Ah, yes, McCall was a budding veterinarian so he had at least some passing knowledge of biology.

The distant clang of a door alerted them to someone’s approach. Peter knew better than to get his hopes up and yet he’d thought maybe one of the other pack members had found them. 

Instead Thor stomped toward them. “I’m going to need you all to step back from your pet human now.” 

Peter’s lips peeled back and a growl burst forth. McCall’s voice was deeper, more guttural; he was equally displeased and the wolf was near to the surface.

“Fine. Don’t. Suits me fine.” Thor reached into his pocket.

McCall threw himself toward the bars, reaching through them to get at the enemy.

Peter didn’t think reason was going to work here but he had to try. “The chemicals are playing havoc with his blood pressure.”

“Yep, Doc said that might happen. He said I could help alleviate the pressure.” The man might look like a stereotypical dumb gym-rat only concerned with his muscles but he at least comprehended the situation.

“If you do that his system will probably overload and he’s going to stroke out.” Peter finished his appeal. 

Thor activated the switch on the device he’d pulled from his pocket and electricity arced through the cell again. 

Liam and Theo who had recently climbed to their feet went down hard, crashing to the unforgiving surface of the cement flooring.

Scott staggered against the bars, his body doing an interesting jig as the energy surged through his body.

Peter tipped forward, sheltering Stiles with his body. That was the extent of the protection he could offer as the current racing through his body was keeping him from taking further measures.

Thor laughed. “I think I’ll go for it anyway. If his body gives out, so be it. In the meantime the fun we’ll have…oh, shit.”

The hum of energy pulsing through the cell tapered off.

The dim lights overhead flickered and then went out.

Apparently the reign of electrical terror was over.

Once Peter’s limbs had unlocked with the cessation of electrical torture he gathered Stiles against his chest. He kept his back to the cell front, not because he enjoyed turning his back on the enemy but because he wanted to put as much protection between whoever would be coming through that cell and the human in his arms.

McCall piped up. “Kira?”

Ah, the kitsune. The power outage suddenly made sense.

“Scott, why do you smell like…oh my God, I’m going to hurl.” The not so dulcet tones of Malia taking her boyfriend to task would amuse Peter later.

Much later.

A loud barrage of noise made Peter’s head ring.

The resident banshee had arrived and most likely dispatched the rest of the Calaveras crew. Lydia was not one to be trifled with.

Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.

Malia began to bitch at Lydia about hurting her ears but she quickly switched to berating McCall about the stink in the cell.

“Deaton is waiting at his clinic. Can Stiles be moved or should I have Deaton come here?” Lydia hovered behind Peter.

Peter didn’t like anyone being near the vulnerable human and his face moved into beta shift, easing the way for his vocal cords to growl his displeasure.

“Oh, please. I’m just trying to help.” Peter could picture the petite woman pursing her lips, her face showing just how unimpressed she was by his efforts.

“Give him a break, Lydia. He’s been stuck taking care of me.” Stiles had joined the conversation. His voice was weak and breathy but he was awake. 

“Okay, then. Peter if you could please carry him outside I have a vehicle waiting.” Lydia would’ve made a good event planner.

Or dictator.

Peter shook off his partial shift and rose to his feet.

“Whoa, warn a guy would ya?” Stiles mumbled as he threw an arm around Peter’s neck.

Peter’s wolf was most pleased by this development.

“Hang on then. You have an appointment with Dr. Deaton.” Peter barely recognized the soft, patient tone in his own voice. 

“You do realize I am not an animal, I am a human being.” Stiles quipped. 

If the younger man was able to make cultural references, he must be feeling better.

“Yes, yes, we know Mr. Merrick. You are not an elephant either.” Peter had quite enjoyed “The Elephant Man” and made plans to watch it with Stiles once he was fully recovered.

Oh.

Peter had both platonic and sexual feelings for Stiles. He would have to sort that out with his daughter, and he supposed his alpha, and of course Stiles.

First and foremost, Stiles needed medical help. “We think we were exposed to—”

“Something with sildenafil citrate as well as testosterone and something from the phenethylamine class, most likely amphetamine. These are all strong aphrodisiacs but we not only have a way to mitigate the effects but we might have a long term solution in the way of an inoculation that binds…well, I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say we think we can render their little foray into drug warfare ineffective.” Peter blinked at Lydia’s summation of the problem. She was pursuing her PhD in Chemistry and apparently it was paying off.

It was a very good thing Lydia was on their side.

“It sounds like you have everything well in hand. Please, lead on.” Peter cradled Stiles’s light body to his chest, angling him carefully through the cell door, sheltering him so as not to damage any of his vulnerable body parts.

Peter and Malia exchanged glances. Malia crinkled her nose, opened her mouth to make some ill timed comment, but then her shoulders rounded and she deflated. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Malia’s tone was rather blasé but the fact she expressed any such sentiment made Peter stand taller. “I’ll see you later.”

That was it for tender father-daughter reunions. Peter needed to get Stiles to Deaton before he suffered another set back.

Taking care of Stiles had someone become his mandate.

-0-

Stiles tuned out as much of what Deaton was saying as he could. It wasn’t that Stiles was ungrateful—he definitely appreciated the combined awesomeness of Lydia and the vet—but he was still tired and there was something about Deaton’s voice that bugged him.

He tried to catch Scott’s eye but his friend blushed and looked away.

Blushing and looking away with a side of stuttering had become pretty commonplace among Scott, Liam and Theo but as far as Stiles was concerned, Scott didn’t have anything to be ashamed of and Stiles had told him that. Repeatedly. 

So why was Scott avoiding him?

Suddenly Malia, who was sitting next to Stiles on the McCall’s couch, piped up. “You mean like sex pollen? Scott had me read a fan fiction story about—”

“Oh my God, stop, please!” Scott’s agonized plea cut off Malia’s interesting explanation.

Sex pollen. In high school Stiles had foraged out fan fiction stories featuring the sex pollen trope. He’d even read essays. He remembered how sex pollen functioned as a metaphor for sexual desire and it was used in a variety of ways like getting a ‘wtf’ couple together, breaking taboos, non-con and romantic matchmaking. 

Stiles felt very lucky that his own visit with the sex pollen agent hadn’t turned into non-con and that was all due to Peter’s amazing control. 

Deaton continued to drone on and Stiles tried to focus but the other man’s tone was pedantic and mind numbing.

It was also hard to concentrate when Peter was standing across from him, arms crossed so his biceps bulged against the confines of the t-shirt, watching him steadily. 

Apparently Stiles had a thing for Peter now. It wasn’t exactly uncommon behavior he acknowledged. He’d dated Malia. He’d dated Lydia. God help him, he’d dated Theo.

Peter at least was a step up from Theo.

Not that they were dating.

Stiles was pretty sure if Peter asked him, he’d say yes.

The older man was fascinating. Contrary yet brilliant. Outspoken but also reserved. He had a wicked sense of humor.

He had a wicked body.

He’d gone out of his way to take care of Stiles.

Stiles had the hunters and their little attempt at chemical warfare for these epiphanies. 

Weird.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Malia’s concern interrupted Stiles’s musings.

The meeting was breaking up. Finally. He’d hit Lydia up for the Cliffs Notes version of whatever Deaton covered. Later.

Stiles turned to respond to Malia’s question and her nose did that crinkle-thing that was absurdly cute. Stiles didn’t dare say anything because she’d probably haul off and belt him one; Malia was no shrinking violet and wouldn’t take being called cute a compliment.

Peter pushed away from the wall and that little bit of movement caught Stiles’s attention. The sexy saunter. The blinding smile.

“Get a room, you two.” Malia’s tone was both disgusted and amused.

Stiles snapped his attention back to her. “What?”

“You and Peter. You’re not fooling anyone.” She folded her arms over her chest. Her biceps bulged but Stiles didn’t find the motion nearly as sexy as when Peter did the same thing.

He had it bad. 

“Stiles, could I have a word with you please?” Peter was standing in front of Stiles and Malia was melting away, muttering something about finding Scott.

“Okay.” Stiles patted the spot on the couch Malia had just deserted. 

“I’ve talked to both my daughter and my alpha and now I need to speak with you.” Peter’s blue eyes really were mesmerizing.

The other man’s words finally penetrated Stiles’s sexual haze. “About what?” He tried to dial down the panic but if Peter was approaching Scott about something it was serious.

“About you.”

“What about me?”

There was a time Peter would’ve snapped at Stiles to shut up so Peter could tell him but he smiled. It was his amused, benevolent smile not his serial killer smile. “Would you join me for dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, you know that social activity people partake in when they want to get to know each other better?”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“I am. I talked to both Malia and Scott so they know I’m asking you out.”

Ah. That explained Scott’s inability to meet Stiles’s eyes across the room. Scott tolerated Peter but he still held a great mistrust for him.

Stiles couldn’t blame him. It had taken Stiles a long time to get over the events that had transpired in high school and Peter’s role in them.

They were all older. Hopefully wiser. 

They’d all changed. Even Peter.

Stiles didn’t hold Peter strictly accountable for some of his actions, especially not after he found out he’d been abandoned by his family and slowly went insane while trapped inside his slowly healing body.

There was enough in Stiles’s own history he wished he could take back.

Maybe it was time to put the past behind them. “I accept.”

Peter’s smile was dazzling. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Stiles’s cheek.

Stiles allowed the contact but then he turned his face and pressed his lips against Peter’s. The licking and sucking quickly intensified. There was no doubt he and Peter had sexual chemistry.

And best of all? This was 100% natural chemistry. No sex pollen needed.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working without a net (beta) for most of these stories so if you spot something egregious please let me know. I also acknowledge my weakness when it comes to tagging (this is something I've never had to worry about before posting on AO3 and although I see the merits to it, I also find in mind boggling) so please let me know if you want me to add some.
> 
> I appreciate your patronage so if you leave me a comment, I apologize for my less than speedy response--in order to hit my deadline I have to stay on task which means writing, writing and more writing.
> 
> Thank you for going on this little adventure with me.


End file.
